Caught in the Rain
by Ryanne 187
Summary: Shawn Michaels was never interested in art...untill IT became interested in HIM. Shawn/OC.


Authors Notes: I make no money off this, the people mentioned belong to themselves and the WWE, except for Rayne, sh's mine.

This is based off of a song. It contains **_MATURE _**content. If you're underage, or get cases of the "Eewwies" you know where the back button is.

**Caught in the Rayne**

_April 1997_

_Seattle, Washington_

She didn't read 'Playgirl'. It just wasn't something she did. But here she was, nonetheless, reading it. October of last year, but that's what her best friend had given her. Sunflower was always trying to provide Rayne with potential canvasses.

"Rayne, look at this guy. Wouldn't he be perfect for your new airbrushing kit?"

"I guess, what's his name?"

"Shawn Michaels."

Rayne looked more carefully at the cover. Peered into the smiling face. She opened the magazine carefully and studied the man. Golden skin stretched over perfectly corded muscles, but not overly bulked. Nice soft skin. Perfectly toned body. Hair that flowed like a golden brown waterfall down his back. But it was his eyes, carefree eyes, complete with an arrogance and masculinity that spoke of an unwitting predator. A vibrant blue green. Like someone shined both blue and green jade through quartz crystal.

"Hmmm...Shawn huh? Father would say living flame with eyes of the sky"

She read more through the interview and article. A wrestler. Not exactly art material. Yet, he WAS perfect for her new angle. She brushed her nearly thigh length straight black hair back. She kept it in a braid most of the time. Her eyes were coal black, her skin fairer than most would expect from her obvious background.

Rayne was mixed white and Cherokee. Her father and mother were still on the reservation up north, but she chose to stay here, in the art district, not far from where Kurt Cobain used to live, God rest his beloved soul. Besides, she'd lived here since she was old enough to get her own place. She now lived in a loft studio apartment, a renovation that never quite got finished. she liked it that way.

She shrugged, crossing her tall legs on the couch. Alright. Now the question was how to get him here.

_One Month Later_

"Why the hell are we here again?" Shawn leaned over to Hunter, his best friend and in ring partner in crime.

"It's the only club in this part of Seattle, unless you wanna go to a coffee bar and listen to poetry or really bad garage music."

"Yikes!" Shawn shuddered. No, thanks. It really didn't matter. He looked around, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He knew that wouldn't last. He already was itching to take out the bottle of pills hidden in his leather jacket pocket. Then he wouldn't notice much of anything. He looked over, Hunter was watching him like a hawk. Hunters eyes didn't miss anything either, and sometimes, the hardest part of being Shawn's best friend was keeping said friend from overdosing on the pills he wouldn't stop taking.

The table was high up, on a slight dais from the dance floor, in the corner. The floor was filled with people, and when you looked just right, you could see every pair of bodies that obviously made up a couple. They were dressed to the nines. It was that kind of the club.

"RAYNE!! Over here!" Called an attractive womans voice from another table. They looked like they were here on a meeting of sorts. The two men were obviously gay, and the woman was sitting in a peasant blouse and a leather skirt. They had papers and little cards all over the table.

Shawn looked back over, when he saw her. She was walking toward the table in a knit black tank dress, the skirt stopping about three inches above the knee. It would've been slutty, but on her, it looked right. Black high heels added height to her, which was already tall. She was slim and fluid, her black eyes turned up a little. Full lips in a earth tone lipstick. Her arms were weighed down in gold and silver bracelets, with a tight wooden Native American choker. Her waterfall of black hair went down to her thighs, and was loose, with one tiny braid being the exception.

"You're staring Shawn!" Hunter startled Shawn out from his trance, but it was already too late. She'd sensed the scrutiny and bypassed her friends. She approached the table. She stopped at the end, and sat herself down.

"There, now you don't have to strain those pretty eyes looking at me." She teased.

Hunter snorted, Shawn glared at him.

"It's okay, I was meaning to talk to you anyway," Shawn was about to get agitated and tell her off. "Now, before you get the wrong idea, and tell me to shove off, I'm not some reporter, fan girl, or autograph seeker."

Shawn's brows creased.

"My name is Rayne. Rayne Walker. I'm a local artist. I do all the artwork for this club." Shawn and Hunter looked around. There were several paintings of women, men, or both posed in extremely sensual positions, looking like they'd been done with 50s pinup smoothness. Some were nearly nude, but shaded and looked as if designs were painted onto their bodies.

"So ummm...what can we do for you?" Hunter asked.

"Not WE...just him." She pointed at Shawn, who for some reason squirmed under her intense gaze, which looked like she could see him naked, beyond naked, with sharp analytical eyes.

Sunny was right. His pictures didn't do him justice. Even out of his element, defensive and wary, he was beautiful. He'd left his gold shot brown hair loose, and she couldn't wait to work with it. His eyes shined, met hers, darted away. Like a gazelle with the heart of a lion. Such dichotomy.

"Okaaaay...how can I help you?" Shawn asked sarcastically, truth be told, the way she caressed him with her eyes was beginning to get to him.

"Easy...I need a model for my new medium. I was given the Playgirl you did last year, and I've seen enough to know you're perfect for it." She spoke bluntly, with no whitewash, and Hunter spit out the beer he'd been drinking.

"Are you...serious?" Hunter gasped, trying not to laugh too hard.

"Deadly. I actually had no idea who Shawn was before I saw that magazine. To be honest, I really don't watch much TV." She seemed to be very businesslike, to the point, not a hidden agenda in sight. "Well, what are we talkin' about here?" Shawn asked, wondering why there wasn't enough room in his jeans all of a sudden.

"I can't really describe it. My apartments right up the street. We can walk there. You can take your friend along with you if you don't feel comfortable, and I promise I won't do anything to compromise you or your career." Rayne crossed her legs to the side of the table, and Shawn looked over at Hunter, smiling arrogantly, the 'Heartbreak Kid' character asserting himself with a vengeance.

"You find your own way back?" He said, already grabbing his leather motorcycle jacket.

"Shawn, if Vince finds out you're..."

"Trust me, it'll be fine!" Shawn laughed, sliding out of the booth, standing up at the same time as the artist, only to find she was taller than he was. She laughed and reached down to take off her shoes. She came down to a reasonable height.

"Sorry about that, these aren't my shoes."

Rayne brushed against his jacket, then turned to the table as Shawn was heading out. She handed the bottle of painkillers to Hunter.

"He won't be needing these tonight." She winked at Hunter. The blond took a deep breath. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

When they got off the elevator, a rickety one that made Shawn a little nervous, she opened her door, sliding the iron on its squeaky wheels. The apartment seemed to be just a wide open space that never quite got walls or...anything else really. One wall was made up of slanted windows, in one corner was obviously a bedroom area, with a box spring/mattress on the floor surrounded by Bedouin curtains, a dresser, and one wall installed with a kitchen, where she obviously didn't keep in any sort of order.

The rest was all art. Paintings signed by numerous artists all over the walls. There were oil paint tubes littering the floor, easels, large and small stacks of canvasses and spray paint cans adorned one corner, where a large graffiti picture was taking place. Marble, clay, sculpture. There were file cabinets, stacks of papers, a clothesline with drying watercolors, and a door off to the left with a red light above it. A photography closet. This was either an art store, or she lived and breathed in color.

"Holy..." Shawn breathed.

"Thought I was just coming onto you didn't you?" Rayne laughed.

"Get yourself a drink. I'm going to change." Shawn went to the fridge, finding only organic juices, ginger ale, and soy milk. He picked out a fruit punch, hoping he wasn't about to taste grass. He didn't. So he drank more.

"It's not going to bite. In fact, it's good for you." Shawn looked up.

Rayne looked, if possible, even better. She'd changed into a pair of paint spattered, worn jeans, with holes in just the right places, a tank top that zipped up the front, revealing her toned stomach, winking with a belly ring. Her long, long hair was up in a complicated bun, not one hair in her face. She was dragging a strange metal box with a hose and a gun, with a palette of different bottles. She dropped them in front of him and then turned, hurriedly rifling about in a corner that seemed to have a lot of props in it.

"Strip." She ordered. Shawn blinked. That was direct.

"Excuse me?" She sighed.

"PLEASE don't tell me you're developing shyness on me now."

"Why do I need to be...naked."

"It's airbrush, I need your whole body. C'mon, I know don't have long with you."

Shawn licked his lips, and took off his shirt. What the _hell_ was the matter with him. He can strip down to nearly nothing in front of the whole world, but one lone artist and he goes shy? Steeling himself, he took off his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, taking them down before dragging off his boots. He was grateful he wasn't cold. It would be a rather poor showing. He almost giggled at that.

Rayne pushed a double handled chaise against a black curtained wall, and draped it in a lush golden fabric. Then she turned on him.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

Shawn nodded.

"Try not to fidget, okay?" Shawn looked at her. There was this electric feeling. It was like just before clearing the curtains every Monday. So he closed his eyes, and nodded once again. "Just breathe Shawn."

There was this sound like a motor revving up, then a sound of hydrolics. Then he felt the caress of air everywhere. This feeling of air making little passes wherever it touched. His skin became ultra-sensitive, and what was previously a moment of uncertainty, became a moment of extreme pleasure. He hadn't taken his painkillers, so he was aware of every nerve, every little quarter inch of flesh. His adrenaline spiked. The feeling stopped when he dropped his head back.

"Sorry hon, I just have to tie up your hair, so I don't get any paint on it. Its perfect just the way it is."

She grabbed a soft ponytail holder of hers, then took off her mask. He felt her carefully tie his hair up, but stop for a moment to run her fingers through the satiny threads of golden-brown. She brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent of him. He smelled good. Clean, wired, with a hint of sandalwood. She leaned into his ear, and he felt her breath.

"You smell good. Now hold still."

Rayne resumed spraying him. She covered his body in an ochre color, burnt orange in base. She avoided his groin area, as she wasn't really willing to paint that spot just yet, but she did tease him by adding unnecessary puffs of air here and there, on his strong thighs and lower stomach. She knew he was hard, but she couldn't allow herself the pleasure. Work comes first.

Once she had him covered, she led him to the chaise.

"Sit, I want to see you as you were in your pics with that belt. Although, instead of holding your head up with your elbow, stretch your hand down onto the surface."

Shawn obeyed. His eyes were glassy. She was all business, but he wasn't. He couldn't wait till this was over so he could seduce her. This whole experience was so sensual, and he was turned on, painfully so.

He watched her while she changed the color in the gun to a dark brown. She got down on all fours, and began putting spots on him. She used a stencil, and put them all down his arm, all across his chest and down his leg all the way to his feet. The few times their eyes did meet, it was pure electricity. She covered the ends of his fingers in brown, then put the machine away, coming back with another palette. Sliding glasses on, she took out a small liner brush, and began to outline the spots in yellow. He was throbbing everywhere.

"Could you...ummm...stop that please?" She asked.

"What?" He purred in a thick Texas drawl. It always came out when he was too relaxed to stop it.

"Well...that." She pointed to his erection, and he looked at her like she'd gone mad.

"You've got your hands...and brushes, all over me. I'm human ya know. No can do." He blushed. He'd never been asked THAT before. But he tried to relax for her, seeing there was no use.

She smiled, and went back to work. She worked for another two hours. When she pronounced herself done, she posed his arm over his middle, but flexed his fingers over the edge of the chaise, the other held him up, fingers flexed there as well. she let his hair down, applying spray to add a little fullness where it lay, but just let it flow naturally. His legs were pushed against one end of the chair, muscles flexed.

"Wanna see how women see you?" Shawn looked up, the crystal blue green glazed and electric.

"Sure." He said lazily. After all, it couldn't be much different from how he saw himself. Rayne brought over a huge mirror.

There were times when he was totally wrong. Because the person in that mirror was not the man he thought he was at all, but if THIS was how women saw him, he was in for a very long career being a favorite of the fairer sex. Sexy boy indeed.

He looked like a animal. What kind he couldn't tell. His hair was wild in places, his face painted, the eyes lined, a line from under his nose to his lips, which were burnished gold. Spots lined in blended yellow ran down his arms, where the very tips of his fingers were brown. With his hairy chest, dark orange body, he looked like a sensual creature, out to devour and well, fuck, everything he could get his hands on. She shined a light on him from his far left, and Shawn watched as she pulled out a camera. One of those with the long lenses.

"You can have all the photos and negatives." She promised.

"You can keep 'em. I'm all but unrecognizable." He drawled as she took picture after picture. He barely noticed. All he could think of was his reflection. After a long time of snapping, she finally took a deep breath.

"I'm done. I'll develop these and send you everything. I'll just keep a copy of the best, fuzz it out, and frame it. I'll keep it for myself."

"Okay..." He looked at her as if to say 'What now?'

"OH...sorry, the shower is this way." She led him by the hand to sectioned off stall with a waterfall type spout. The walls were painted to look like a cove. The water was warm. She came in with her clothes on.

"Wow...you're really...not interested in..." He sputtered as he realized he was hard again, and she looked anything but impressed. She gave him a smoldering look, and reached down her jeans to produce a small vibrator.

"I had three orgasms during the painting alone." His face was priceless. He felt humiliated. He blinked, he couldn't understand. She felt she had to use a toy when he could've relieved her at any time.

"Oh, so I'm good enough to get off on, but not to actually fuck?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what?" He demanded, as she methodically washed him clean of paint.

"I had work to do...I couldn't allow the distraction."

"But you're not working anymore!" He snapped. She smirked.

"I know."

Rayne unzipped the front of her tank top. Her breasts fell out, natural and not too big. She then dragged her wet jeans off, wrapped her arms around Shawn's neck, and pressed her soft lips to his. 'Here we go' Shawn purred internally.

She led him out of the shower, then sat him down. She sat behind him, breasts pushed against his back. She blew his hair dry, brushing it and licking his neck.

"I love your hair. It's really beautiful" Rayne got it to shine. Shawn never found a mundane, everyday task so erotic. When it shined like the mane it was, she led him to her curtained space.

They landed in her bed, tossing aside her clothes that were all over it. Rayne closed the curtains and rubbed her body all over his. Their kisses got hotter and deeper, and when they broke apart, Shawn purred.

"I've never made it with an artist."

"Well, I've never made it with an arrogant wrestler, so were even." She straddled him, Letting her hair down so a black inky curtain closed around them.

He smirked as she ran her hands through his chest hair and down his treasure trail. Leaning down, she followed the path of her fingers with her hot mouth. Shawn let out a breath as he looked up at the many colors in the layers of the curtains, and the intricate lamp hanging from the center of it. Yellow, blue, a deep maroon. A place separate from everything and everyone.

She looked up, and watched his response as she felt his skin all over, traced the snake in his heart tattoo, digging under him to grasp his ass. He arched.

"Fuck woman..." He muttered.

Giving a dark chuckle, she locked eyes with him and licked the head of his sizable cock.

"How did they hide this behind that belt?"

"It's a big belt." He smirked and went to close his eyes to enjoy the blow job.

"No, don't take your eyes off mine."

Shawn nodded, and braced himself up with his elbows, as she methodically licked his shaft. Pleasure spiked his blood, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. His eyelids continued to try and close, the thick fringe of his eyelashes fluttering.

Rayne caressed his balls. She then went down on him completely, and he felt his cock hit the back of her throat. He yelled, and forced his eyes open, instinct told him to close them and let his head fall back. But her onyx eyes were locked on his, so he struggled, his eyes rolling back and then forward. He gripped the silk sheets. He tightened. Just one more suck, one more lick. He was groaning and shaking his head all over her pillows. It was almost time.

Then she stopped. Shook her head.

"No wasting it."

"I can go twice." Shawn bragged. And he could.

"But not as strong." Rayne reasoned. She slid up his body and licked his neck. Shawn took over.

"My turn." He giggled and turned her over. She pulled all her hair up behind her head.

Shawn felt her legs wrap themselves around him. Her hair made a black waterfall on the bed and the pillows. Touching her lips and then her neck, he trailed fingers down her body to her breasts. Natural and full, tipped with dark brown nipples, they were just big enough to fit in his hands. Perfect. She had a tattoo of a dream catcher around her bellybutton that made it's way down to her shaved mound. He smiled. That would make things easier.

He slid down her body, his golden brown hair playing on her skin. His fingers strayed to her face. She took one in her mouth, holding his hand in hers as he licked at her belly, fooling around with her belly ring, then working lower.

"Gonna use that smart mouth for something better?" Rayne joked.

"Oh yeah..."

Then there wasn't much talk at all. Just sounds of wetness as he licked on her body, starting with her thighs. He worried her outer lips with his lips. She dove her hands in his hair, massaging his scalp, and rubbing the silken threads on her belly and breasts.

Finally, she felt his tounge on her inner lips, sucking at her labia. She arched and moaned, and he used his strong hands to hold her still. He could see her clit, poking out, hard, glistening. He tightened his hands, then buried his lips into her mound, using his tongue to lick her clit, teasing the nerves relentlessly. He waited, she breathed harsher and harder. He kept up his place and pace, and finally she tensed and he felt her contractions. He smiled, she was coming.

_"SHAWN!!"_

"Mmmmm..." He lifted his head up and licked his lips.

Rayne was still dazed as Shawn slid up her body. She welcomed him into the cradle of her thighs. She took a deep breath in and raised her legs. It was a blatant invitation. Shawn slid himself deep into her, finding her tight and wet, perfect. He slid his hands underneath her to capture her shoulders, and she reciprocated by running her hands up his back. The smell of sex and the merest hint of paint made for an interesting aroma. He pumped inside her slowly. There was no rush. She sighed and mewled in pleasure.

_"Shawn_...oh Gods..._Shawn_...by the fires...yes..." Rayne moaned helplessly.

"Yes...Rayne..."

Shawn smirked. Their lovemaking escalated, went faster, Rayne looked into blue green eyes and he looked into dark ones. They finally threw back their heads and brought upon the end. One final thrust and Shawn brought her once again to orgasm before taking his own breathtaking pleasure. He emptied himself into her, shaking with adrenaline and overcome with thunderous release.

He collapsed onto her, and she smiled, breathing as heavily as he was, their hearts beating the same tattoo. Shawn buried his head in her neck, and she petted his hair. A tear escaped her eye.

"I've...I've...never...it's not usually like that." Shawn admitted. And it hadn't been.

"The earth can't move unless the forces allow it to." Rayne replied.

Shawn nodded. He supposed that was true.

They made love twice more that night. He discovered the phoenix tattoo that rose out of her back, and she made the sex an experience that he had never felt before. Eventually he fell asleep on his stomach, with her head on his back, and their hands intertwined. Shawn slept fully and deeply. In this tent, in this apartment, where the rain ran down the large windows and the iron door closed, he felt like all the bullshit was outside, and she protected him while he slept.

He woke to find she was staring at him, petting his hair and smiling.

"Good morning." Shawn said softly.

"It is isn't it?"

"They're probably looking for me." Shawn joked.

"Probably." Rayne was smiling this soft, but slightly sad smile.

"Hey...this doesn't have to end here Rayne." Shawn sat up, and kissed her neck.

"Yes it does." She traced his back muscles. "Why?"

"Shawn, do you really have it within you to be faithful? When you're gone for weeks, months at a time? You don't have it in you, and I can't accept any less."

Blue green eyes looked down. She was right, and it had only been one night. Then why did he feel so sad?

After a short and silent breakfast, Rayne saw him to the door wearing nothing but a robe. He kissed her on the cheek and put on his jacket.

"We'll see each other again on the Great Path, father always says that," Rayne caressed his hair. "Shawn remember, you've got gifts the Great Mother has given you. Don't take that for granted."

He nodded and left. As he was catching a cab, he looked up to her large windows. She was carrying a mug and she kissed her fingers, putting them to the cold glass. Six weeks later, as promised, all the film, and photos were sent to him. Shawn refused to talk about that night or show the pictures to anyone. Somehow, what was a routine night of sex had turned into something else, and Shawn never really forgot it.

0

_July 2006_

Life for Shawn Michaels was nearing perfect. He was in a great city with a great night planned. A fantastic night where he and Hunter would have lot of fun. Having Degeneration-X back was wonderful. He got to spend tons of time with Hunter. And they got to play out their real life friendship on TV instead of masking it behind a massive feud.

The people absolutely ate it up. Of course, he had to be careful with what he did. He wouldn't break his vows as a Christian. He left all the nasty stuff to Hunter. A role reversal. He was no longer the one in charge, but that was fine with him. He was only in it for the fun now, and wasn't all caught up in anger and arrogance.

He was in his rental car on the way to the hotel to meet up with Hunter when he saw it. A poster with familiar eyes. Eyes he never forgot.

"An exhibit of Human Art with Rayne Walker, presented by the Philadelphia Museum of Art"

Oh my god, Rayne!

He called Hunter and told him to meet him at the museum.

An hour later they were walking through the building to the place where Rayne was having her exhibit.

"Why the hell are we here Shawn?"

"Remember that artist back in Seattle in '97?"

"The weird one you walked off with?" Shawn glared at Hunter.

"Yes. Well, she's here. These are her paintings."

"Okay..." Hunter never understood Shawns obsession with the artist, they had only spent one night together. It seemed to change him though. He kinda wished she'd stuck around. Maybe things would've been easier for Shawn. But it would've been hard on her. Too hard. He knew what it was like. He missed Stephanie everyday. And this was now, when he was older and responsible. When they were young and stupid, Hunter doubted either he nor Shawn would've been capable of running a relationship that didn't run itself right into the ground.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear the laughter of a child, combined with the exasperated shout of her mother until he bumped into her.

"CATHEDRAL MICHEALA WALKER! Get BACK here NOW!"

Both Hunter and Shawn looked at the child. She looked up. And Shawn froze. Rayne came around the corner and sighed, walking over intent on murdering said child when she saw Shawn. Their eyes met. She stopped in her tracks as she realized he was studying Cathedral a little too intently.

"Shawn..." She breathed.

Hunter wondered what the hell they were so serious about until he looked down. The kid was cute. About ten, she cringed and looked up, blue green eyes set in a face with a familiar nose and a definitely familiar smile meeting their eyes. She was wearing a peasant blouse, a hippie skirt, had gold earrings, and two black braids down to her waist. Flowers were stuck in her hair.

Rayne caught up with her daughter and took her by the shoulders.

"How many times do I have to tell you, stay in the exhibit room, you'll get lost in a place like this."

"Awww Mama, I'm bored. Can't we go out?"

"Cathedral..." Rayne started. "Alright. When I get finished with this meeting, we'll go to the mall."

"YES!" The little girl kissed her mothers cheek and ran back into the room, leaving the three adults alone. Hunter looked from Shawns eyes to Raynes before he realized he needed to let them alone. So he followed the child into the exhibit room.

"How old is she?" Shawn demanded, his eyes stormy.

Rayne bit her lip. She looked almost the same. Except for the business suit and the expensive watch, her black hair still traveled down her her thighs and her eyes were the exact color of onyx. She took a deep breath, knowing the guilt was in her eyes.

"Almost eight."

"When was she born?"

"January 15th, 1998." Rayne didn't see the point in lying. The evidence was too clear.

"Is she mine?" Shawn asked.

"Yes. You left me a very valuable gift that night."

"And you didn't think maybe I'd like to know that little bit of information?"

Shawn was trying to keep his temper, praying in his head that he wouldn't start yelling. How dare she keep his child from him. Cameron was almost six, and Cheyenne, bless her little heart, was two. He loved his children. Considered them to be blessings from God. Along with Rebecca. How would she react when he brought Raynes daughter home.

"I was going to tell you Shawn, but then you were so popular. I decided it was in both our interests to keep it a secret. Then I heard about your marriage and son. I didn't want to disrupt that, so I just kept it to myself. Told Cathedral that her father was dead, and left it alone."

"Dead?! You told her I was DEAD?"

"Please don't yell Shawn, you know I did the right thing. I also knew about the drugs. I...I made a decision to tell her the truth when you came back to wrestling, but...you had...changed quite a bit...in ways I didn't want for Cat."

"What way?" Shawn thought all his choices had been for the better. Then it hit him. She was Native American. His devotion to the Lord wouldn't go over very well with her ways.

"I'm a Christian, that's it?"

Rayne nodded.

"I appreciate that you got over your drug addiction that way Shawn, but I don't want that for my daughter. You must know that."

"Yeah...but I wouldn't shove it down her throat." Shawn wasn't that way.

"You say that now, but sooner or later, you wouldn't be able to help yourself. And I always want free thought and free spirit for Cat."

"So...I'm just supposed to walk away? Because we have different religions? I have a right to my daughter."

"Do you really wanna go home and explain to Rebecca how you have a daughter with a woman other than her. Even if it was before the marriage, you know she won't understand." Rayne pointed out. She was getting antsy. She didn't know how long she had before Cathedral came and investigated. "She'll be okay. She's so smart, and quick. Pretty eyes...she's my pride and joy. That's going to have to be enough." Rayne smiled.

"You're not being fair Rayne."

"Maybe not, but this is how it is."

"I'm just supposed to walk away, knowing that she's out there, and that I can't ever touch her, hold her, talk to her. That my own flesh and blood exists, but I'm forced out of her life? C'mon Rayne, please give me a chance to be something to her." Shawn's heart was breaking. No, he didn't think Rebecca would be pleased, but she was a good wife. She would try. It wasn't a good enough reason to turn his back on his daughter.

Rayne sighed under his look and relented.

"Okay...tell ya what, meet us at the Liberty Bell Museum tomorrow at noon, we'll talk then, but I gotta go for now."

"Okay. Tomorrow. Good." Shawn smiled, there was a chance.

The next day, Shawn bought a new stuffed eagle for Cathedral, and went to the place he and Rayne agreed upon. He waited for over two hours, but she never showed. The exhibit she had been working on was closed down, and the entire thing had gone on to the next city.

When he got back to his hotel, there was a letter tucked under the door. Opening it, he found a picture of Cathedral, and a note.

"You were my best work Shawn...and she was yours. Please forgive me. R"

It was a long time before Shawn realized the wet spots on the letter were actually his tears.

"It was you that kept me high... With whatever you say... Telling me something real...What we do...it doesn't matter now When I was caught in the rain ...You made me feel."

- "Caught in the Rain" Revis - Places for Breathing (2003)

Finis

If you'd like to see a tag on this story with a more uplifting ending, leave it in the reviews. If I get enough, I'll add it to the story.


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